


The Couch

by bluphacelia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bonding Moments, Domestic Fluff, First Time, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, This is a story about a couch, purely self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 03:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10067900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluphacelia/pseuds/bluphacelia
Summary: The whole thing had been a disaster. First the waterline broke, flooding the basement. The water had ended up ruining almost everything down there, including their living room setup. The only thing spared being the TV, mounted to the wall. Because no disaster comes alone, not a week later, a raccoon managed to crawl in through the half open window and wreck havoc, tearing up what was left of the damp, old furniture, littering sticks and dirt all across the floor. -- Or Lance complains until Keith buys a new couch





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this happened. Mostly thanks to @tadasigh. Purely self-indulgent.

**June 15**  
The whole thing had been a disaster. First the waterline broke, flooding the basement. The water had ended up ruining almost everything down there, including their living room setup. The only thing spared being the TV, mounted to the wall. Because no disaster comes alone, not a week later, a raccoon managed to crawl in through the half open window and wreck havoc, tearing up what was left of the damp, old furniture, littering sticks and dirt all across the floor. 

There Shiro stood, hands on his hips, surveying the destruction the vicious animal had left behind. It had not been ten minutes since animal control had left, taking away the raccoon. The sudden silence was eerie. 

"It's gotta go." Shiro shook his head looking at what was left of the tattered sofa. "There's nothing else to it."

Keith groaned. "I'm so sorry. It really wasn't my fault. The basement had to be aired out and there were no screens on the window. I didn't think—"

"I know," Shiro sighed. It had been a hand-me-down of a hand-me-down anyway. It really shouldn't have felt like such a kick to the gut. 

"But Mom gave that to you didn't she," Keith said, words trailing. "When you moved out."

"It doesn't matter," Shiro clapped a hand against Keith's back.

It took them thirty minutes to the haul the thing to the curb.

**June 18**  
"This's no fun," Pidge grumbled, perched on the bar stool she'd pulled from the kitchen. 

"Shiro's practically living at Allura's so why would I buy a new couch?" Keith grumbled from the floor.

"We can't really have movie night on the floor, dude," Lance piped up. He was perched on one of the throw pillows Allura had insisted on getting for the flat. Throw pillows that now were a very poor replacement for an actual couch.

"It's way too expensive," Keith grumbled slouching against the wall.

"Your place is the most convenient for all of us! Or else we'll just go to Hunk's," Pidge said, pushing off her chair, nearly over turning it in her haste.

"Don't bring me into this," Hunk yelled from the kitchen.

They ended up playing Dominion on the floor.

**July 7**  
"I'm not coming over anymore," Lance's voice was muffled through the speaker. "Do you know what sitting on the floor has done to my posture!"

"It's not that bad!" Keith replied skipping down the last few steps down into the quad. "It's supposed to be good for you. They do it in Asia all the time—sit on the floor."

"They might do it in Asia, but we live here! I'm all about other cultures but I want to sit on something comfortable. Not the floor. Seriously, dude. I'm going to Hunk's tonight. I know it's far, but—" Lance continued on, but Keith had stopped listening. What if this was it? He'd somehow managed to get his place to be the place they always turned up at. With Shiro gone most of the time it was perfect, but now—"Keith, dude? You still there?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah. I'll think about it," Keith said and after a hasty goodbye he hung up. He nearly ran into the biology building.

**July 9**  
 **Keith** : Image sent

**Lance** : What's this?

**Keith** : A couch

**Lance** : No way.  
 **Lance** : There's no way you could have gotten one so soon! 

**Keith** : Image sent  
 **Keith** : There, I'm sitting on the bloody couch. In my living room. You can see the cat

**Lance** : Photoshop!!!

**Keith** : I don't even know how to use PS?!? I don't even have a computer at home??

**Lance** : I still call bs  
 **Lance** : There's just no way. I talked to you like yesterday about this  
 **Lance** : Or you had this the whole time and were holding out on us! How dare you! I'm shocked! Betrayed! Appalled! 

**Keith** : Then come over after work

**Lance** : It's gonna be late. Tomorrow works better, that cool?

**Keith** : Sure. I have lab, but after 3 is good

**Lance** : Cool

**Keith** : Cool

**July 10**  
Lance knocked on the door a bit after four. He tapped his foot, waiting, leaning against the doorframe. Why did it always take an ungodly length of time for Keith to open the door? The door clicked, pulling open a fraction and Lance pushed through. Keith backed away, the cat in one hand as he let Lance past so he could lock the door. The black demon barred her teeth at Keith, flexing her claws in his black jumper.

"Did you pick on Nyx again?" Lance asked taking the cat from his hands. She bumped her head against Lance's chin. "Your master is a mean one, isn't he." Lance walked in,, kicking off his sneakers and dropping his bag on the ground.

"So," Keith grumbled from behind as Lance walked into the—what used to be diningroom now living room. There, was now a brand new, probably second-hand, couch as the center piece. It was all plush black leather, Allura's throw pillows in a haphazard mess in one corner.

"Looks fancy," Lance said and let the cat down as Keith sank onto the couch. 

"Well, it's a couch," Keith replied glancing around and shrugged. "It's comfortable enough." Then there was a hand on his shoulder and he looked up to see Lance lean forward. Before Keith knew it, he had a lapful of Lance as the other man straddled his thighs.

"Hmm, this is still my favorite seat…"Lance said, lips twitching into that particular grin he had and Keith _knew_ he was joking. But knowing that he was joking, didn't lessen the feeling of his stomach plummeting to his knees and heart jumping to his throat. The little rationality he had left vanished as he watched Lance lick his lips. He sucked in his breath and trying to avoid looking at stupid Lance. 

Keith let his head thump against the other's chest. It was a mistake, his head was filled with the heady smell of Lance—clean with a hint of citrus. The chest in question rattled with a low laugh and the breathy sound made his chest swell painfully. 

The world flipped and Lance found himself looking up at Keith. He loomed over him, strong hands pinning him to the couch, their combined weight making them sink into the cushions. There was a long moment where neither of them dared to move. Lance opened his mouth once, but no sound came, words flittering through his mind failing to form into anything vaguely coherent.

Keith pulled away, half perching on the edge of the couch, warm hands falling off Lance, fingers running through his dark fringe as he looked away. It was getting too long. Lance had a sudden urge to ask him if he wanted it cut, but then those eyes were on him, black eyes too dark, too piercing, like they could see right through into his very core. He felt his mouth run dry.

"Sorry—." And Keith was up and three feet away. "Do you want something to drink? I'm sure we have something—" And he stumbled out the door into the kitchen.

Lance curled up, legs folding under him. What the hell was that? He could still feel Keith's hands on his forearms, pinning him down. It was hard to breath. There was a pillow wedged against the small of his back. He turned a bit, pulling and after a small fight it finally popped free and he hugged it tight to his chest. It was comforting, safe, as he felt his heart hammer against chest like it was trying to escape right through his ribcage. What was this?

Lance had barely managed to gather himself, when Keith was back handing him a light beer, the kind he liked best, and he smiled about to say thank you, but—. "You're such a vicious flirt," Keith muttered under his breath and took a sip of his own drink. Lance pulled himself up, back rim rod straight the tirade of retorts already on his lips when the other man nearly choked. "No, wait. I didn't—I mean, that's not what." The rest of his sentence was lost in a fit of coughing that made him wince with sympathy. There was a squeeze in his chest. He took a drink.

"Anyone else coming over today?" Lance asked, leaning back, minutely aware that instead of sitting down Keith had chosen to stand, a cautionary two feet away.

"Naw, just us today," Keith said, not bothering to elaborate. He took another chug of his drink, before finally sitting down. He pulled out his phone to find something to stream. "Do you want to watch something?"

"Sure!" Lance jumped at the idea. It took them a good fifteen minutes before they came to the conclusion that, yes it really was Lance's turn to pick.

It was thirty minutes into the movie, when Lance felt something lean against his shoulder. Keith's black hair tickled his chin as he shifted. The room filled with the sounds of a car skidding followed by a full on explosion, rattling the TV. How Keith managed to pass out in the middle of an action movie was beyond him. 

Minutes ticked by and Lance drank the rest of his beer. He glanced down, eyes picking up the forgotten bottle of cider on the floor, still half full. Inhaling sharply he leaned down to place his own bottle on the ground next to Keith's. There was a groan and Keith stretched in his sleep. A second later he had a healthy lapful of sleeping Keith.

God dammit, he did not need this. Lance looked up at the ceiling and then back to the TV. Fuck. 

The movie played on, the pointless exposition morphing into another explosion not bothering Keith in the slightest as he continued to breath evenly against Lance's thighs. It's just about getting more comfortable right? Lance told himself as he let his fingers fall into Keith's hair. His stupid soft hair. He carded his fingers through the dark strands.

Stupid couch. Stupid soft hair. Stupid Keith.

**July 11**  
Keith groaned and wiggled his shoulders. His pillow was a lot harder than he remembered. He blinked and was met with the dim glow of the TV. It had put itself on power saver mode, the tiny screensaver bumping against the sides. The clock claimed it to be nearly one in the morning. He wiggled and tried to lift himself up, but something was pinning him down. He turned his head only to see Lance sleeping, half slouched down on the couch, arm loosely around his shoulders.

Keith shifted as quietly as he could, not wanting to wake the other man. What could he even say? Sorry for falling asleep on you, my bad? He pushed himself up and felt something slide off his shoulders, he felt behind him, fingers finding—Lance's coat? He glanced down at Lance and took a breath before picking up the garment. He hesitated for a split second, the gesture foreign and warm, before pulling it on before starting for his bedroom. He stripped the blanket off his bed and after a second thought he also grabbed his pillow and walked back into the living room.

The bedding was dumped on couch before he walking up to the tv, switching it off, not even bothering to try and find the remote. Keith waited a moment to get his night eyes back before walking to the couch. He felt something collide against his foot and he stumbled, nearly knocking over the forgotten bottle next to the couch. It tinked against the second and he had to scramble to catch them both before they were knocked over. He grit his teeth and pushed the bottles away to the side of the couch, hoping Nyx wouldn't find them in the night. Where the cat was, he did not know. She'd most likely slipped into Shiro's room again.

"What are you doing?" a sleepy voice asked.

"Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to wake you." Keith wasn't quite sure why he was whispering. He sat back down onto the couch. Lance was sitting up and he tried to hide a yawn behind the back of his hand. 

Keith really should offer him Shiro's room, it was only polite. No one had slept there for what seemed like weeks, it should be fine. "Here." he offered Lance the pillow. There was a moment, but he took it and lay back down straightening his long legs with a wince. Keith bit his lip and pulled at the blanket to cover them both. 

Lance shifted onto his side and Keith felt an arm around his waist pulling him closer, away from the edge. "I don't think this sofa is meant for two like this," Lance whispered, but against his own words, he shifted again and Keith found himself held close, arms squished between their chests.

"I think my arms are dying," Keith grit his teeth. The death grip relaxed and fell away. Suddenly, the extra space was too much. His hands, fingers splayed against Lance's chest. He could clearly feel the rapid heartbeat against the palm of his hand. He was suddenly painfully aware how close they were, the shot of adrenaline pushing him wide awake. Alert. 

"There is always the bed?" Keith felt obliged to state.

"Naw, it's alright," Lance muttered and he let his hand twist up to rest on Lance's back. His touch was light barely there. He found a sliver of skin and a shuddering breath hit the top of his head.

"Lance?" he swallowed, hand dangerously close to the back of Lance's neck. Just a fraction more and he could push his fingers through the short hair.

"Ye-yeah?" Lance breathed, his words vibrated through his frame and his hand tightened against Keith's back. The moment stretched and Keith shifted, pushing up a bit. He caught Lance's eye—breath quick, blue eyes wide. 

"F-fuck," came out as a breathless squeak.

"Well?" Lance began. "Do you—?"

"Yes." Keith cut him off, his voice suddenly loud in the quiet as he freed his arm, fingers finding Lance's jaw. He hovered there for a moment, propping himself up on his elbow, fingers trailing down Lance's cheek, up to his nape, wondering if he actually dared. Lance was still, unblinking in the dim light, but then he swallowed, lips parting minutely. Unresisting.

That was all he needed. He leaned forward, slow, careful, giving Lance every opportunity to move away if he so wished. Then, Lance held up his hand, a perfect mirror of his fleeting touch as his thumb found Keith's cheek. They moved together, closer until finally, lips touched. It was soft, light. Barely there. 

He's kissing me. And a stuttering laugh filled the space between them, only to be swallowed up by another hesitant peck. Lance rolled over, pulling Keith close, closer—as close as he could manage without breaking contact, hands finding their way into silky hair. There were hands trailing across his back, slipping past his shirt, finding skin and he couldn't help but shiver. There was a nip and a soft gasp as tongues met, then eager as they deepened the kiss. 

It turned open mouthed and hungry, eagerness turning into desperation as soft sounds of want slipped past lips only to be swallowed up by the other. They broke away, breath quick and hot. Faces flushed, blanket forgotten on the floor where it had fallen.

"Again?" Lance asked, voice hoarse and he couldn't hold back the bubbling giggle as he shifted up a bit, hand hovering over Keith's side.

That was all Keith needed to pull Lance into another kiss.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [tumblr](http://bluphacelia.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/blu_tweets). I post mostly klance and update information about when I'll be publishing new content!


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